


Melancholia

by i_amnerd



Category: New Tricks
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amnerd/pseuds/i_amnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerry's one step away from yelling 'get off my lawn' at the young, hip twenty-somethings crowded around the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melancholia

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a sequel to 'Never Could Get the Hang of Thursdays' but it's not necessary to read that in order to understand this.

In their world, emotions are awkward. Feeling anything is an embarrassment. If those feelings are negative, that is. Even with positivity comes the nagging feeling that you're somehow giving off the air of a pompous arse.

Grumpiness is just about acceptable so Steve settles for that. He's in good company there, after all. Gerry's one step away from yelling 'get off my lawn' at the young, hip twenty-somethings crowded around the bar. He's launched into a rant about taxes and Danny looks as if he's about ready to shoot himself in an effort to escape. Steve's beginning to think about calling it a night himself.

“Gerry...” He begins, frowning as his colleague makes a shushing gesture with his hand. Shooting an indignant glance over at Danny, he tries again, “Gerry!”

“What?!”

“Give the old aged pensioner with a chip on his shoulder bit a rest, yeah?”

“Look, I happen to be an enfranchised citizen of...”

“Enfranchised? Ooh, maybe I didn't give you enough credit there, Einstein.” Steve smirks.

It's Gerry's turn to look indignant, “Hey! Come on Dan, back me up here.”

As one, they turn to look at the third and youngest member of the group. In return, he rolls his eyes and stands.

“Actually, I think I'm done for the night. Steve, you wanted a lift home?”

He hadn't but he recognises a get out of jail free card when he sees one.

“Night mate.” Steve pats a spluttering Gerry on the shoulder as they leave. “Thanks.” He says quietly to Danny as they exit, standing outside in the cold October air for a moment, both stamping their feet and rubbing their hands together.

“Yeah.” Danny makes an abortive move towards his car, then stops, “Must you always provoke him?”

Steve shakes his head helplessly; how is he supposed to know?

They walk over to Danny's car and sit in silence for a while. They watch Gerry, clearly drunk, stumble out of the pub. He considers his own car, then calls a cab. Steve and Danny breathe identical, simultaneous sighs of relief.

“Are you... okay?” Danny asks.

This is new territory for them both and he looks nervous. Steve takes his time answering, unable to trust his temper not to get the better of him.

“No.” He finally says, staring down at his hands, “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Neither do I as a matter of fact.”

“And yet...”

“You don't have to talk to me about it but you need to talk to someone.”

Panic rises in the back of Steve's mind, like an itch he can't scratch.

“And if I don't want to talk to someone about it?”

Danny mistakes the honest question for Steve's usual sulky belligerence.

“Steve!”

“Danny!”

They stare at each other, both shocked by their own outbursts, locked in a stand-off from which neither man is willing to back down. Steve is breathing hard. Eventually, he turns away, gazing out the window into the darkened parking lot. He leans his forehead against the cool glass and tries to calm down. His breathing hitches as a single sob escapes.

Danny pretends not to notice. He starts the car and drives Steve home. When they get there, Steve makes no move to get out of the car. He doesn't want to be alone. They sit for a while, enveloped in a think, heavy silence.

A siren sounds in the distance.

The trees rustle in the wind.

An owl hoots.

Life goes on.

Steve gets out of the car, thanks Danny and trudges inside. His back is bent, his steps heavy and slow.

Life goes on.


End file.
